


Then Take Up the Strain

by Aderam



Category: Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
Genre: Captain Susan Walker, Gen, Post-Book Series: Swallows and Amazons, Post-World War II, Women Being Awesome, Yuletide 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aderam/pseuds/Aderam
Summary: Captain Susan buys a houseboat.OrMake this house(boat) your home.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 47
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Then Take Up the Strain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elennare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elennare/gifts).



> Thank you Elennare for some delightful prompts and for having the same feelings about Susan as I do!
> 
> This is a post-war fic that doesn't actually mention the war. But I wanted to assure you that I certainly don't agree with any universe where any of the Swallows, Amazons, Ds, and Coots didn't make it through to the other side. So everyone is alive and well!
> 
> This fic is best read listening to Stan Rogers (anachronistically). Please ignore any historical anachronisms or Canadianisms that made their way in - I must live within my limitations.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Happy Yuletide!

When Susan bought the houseboat, she was in dire need of repairs. Her name - _Ellen Carter_ \- barely legible in flaking gold cursive across her stern the only evidence of her former glory. The glass surrounding the port and stern running lights was broken, her green paint peeling all over the hull, and to add insult to injury she looked like she hadn’t seen the business end of a boat brush within recent memory, spider webs and less savory debris hanging off every nook and cranny. 

After the Bankers had departed - counting Susan’s gold coins with glee - she climbed back aboard, careful of the loose stanchions, and took a moment at the helm. The _Ellen Carter_ was still moored securely to the wharf, but Susan could feel the current tugging gently at the rudder as she slowly turned the wheel. The river was fast here, a rough location for a vessel which had already endured so much hardship, and Susan was already looking forward to dropping anchor in the calm waters of Houseboat Bay.

The _Ellen Carter_ had a large wheel for a vessel of her size: solid teak spokes with tarnished brass fittings and a frayed turks head tied around the king-pin. Susan’s hands itched for some polish and varnish to clean her up, but she knew her first priority had to be the engines. The ship had solid, if neglected, bones but she hadn’t yet been able to do a proper inspection of the engine beyond assuring herself that it did at least run.

She would have to get Roger to take a look at it when he was on leave in July, but until then it was up to her to keep the _Ellen Carter_ running. Susan rolled up her sleeves, grabbed the slightly water-damaged copy of the operator’s manual and her only functioning torch and descended into the engine room to complete her initial inspection. Nancy and Peggy would arrive the next day to help with the delivery and with any luck they would be able to start the voyage without delay.

***

_Ahoy Captain Susan!_

_Received your report on the fleet’s new vessel, and agree she is in a sorry state. Am stuck ashore at the mercy of Mistress Gertrude until the end of term papers have been marked. Will advise when able to join the refitting. Ds are likewise detained amongst the enemy._

_My GC has provided a handsome telescope for my birthday. Suspect it will be a great use once the Ellen Carter is properly launched. If the Captain agrees, I’ll ask him to join us for the refit. The man is a land-lubber of the highest order, but he takes instruction well, and may prove useful as a stevedore. Please advise._

_Your Able-Seaman and Fleet Historian,  
Titty Walker_

***

Titty’s letter arrived directly on the heels of Nancy and Peggy the next morning, delivered by a kindly postman who rode his bicycle gingerly along the wharf. Susan smiled as she ripped open the envelope. 

“Well, what’s the news?” Nancy called impatiently from where she was stowing their rucksacks below. “When will she be joining us?”

Susan swung down the main ladder to join her crewmates, scanning the letter as she went.

“Not quite yet unfortunately. She’s got marking to finish up,” Susan recounted, leaning a hip against the counter in the galley. “She’s asking if she can bring along her Gentleman Caller.”

“Crickey,” Peggy said, shoving two loaves of bread into one of the upper galley cupboards next to the eggs, “that’s getting serious then, isn’t it? Is he another Cambridge sort?”

“We should hope he’s not from Oxford, or she might reject him,” Nancy said leaning out of the door to the closest cabin and eyeing Titty’s letter. “The letter she sent when the D’s went to Oxford was one of the most entertaining pieces of literature I’ve ever read.”

Susan smiled at that rather apt description. 

She’d met Titty’s Gentleman Caller last fall when visiting her at Girton College, and he seemed like a perfectly nice man. John, who was still at sea, was more difficult to convince, and had made some rather pointed comments about duffers calling on their sister in his last letter to Susan.

“He’s a King’s College man,” Susan said, handing Nancy the letter and joining Peggy stowing the provisions. 

“A land-lubber!” Nancy exclaimed, eyes still glued to the short letter. 

“A stevedore,” Susan corrected.

“Hmm,” Peggy said thoughtfully, pausing while adding a bottle of ginger beer to the ice box. “Can he swim, at least?”

“I’m not sure,” Susan admitted, handing Peggy a bottle of milk.

“We’ll find out soon enough when I make him walk the plank,” Nancy grumbled.

“The _Ellen Carter_ doesn’t have a plank,” Susan pointed out.

“Quite an oversight,” Peggy said with a wink, placing the milk carefully next to the ginger beer.

“It’ll have to wait until we get to Houseboat Bay then,” Nancy conceded. “Captain Flint still has his and we can borrow it.”

If the GC survived his visit to the fleet this summer, Susan suspected he might be able to survive anything.

***

It was the below decks of the _Ellen Carter_ that won Susan over in the first place. She had a well-appointed and clearly under-used galley with an ice box and a small propane oven, several cabins for crew to bunk in, and space to hang hammocks as necessary. The engine room was well aft and accessed through a separate ladder. Susan hoped this might mean less noise in the main cabin when they were underway, but given the current state of the engine, that hope may have been in vain.

Nancy and Peggy set to work immediately - barely stopping for a tour before lending their hands to preparing for the _Ellen Carter_ ’s maiden voyage under her new master and commander. 

The three women clambered all over the vessel, cleaning the worst cobwebs, tightening bolts and turnbuckles, and ensuring the anchor rode and the mooring lines were in good condition. There was still much to do, and they had cans of paint and varnish and a whole box of sandpaper stowed in the extra cabin to use after they got to Rio. But for the moment, the _Ellen Carter_ was seaworthy, and delivering her to home waters was priority number one.

***

Once the provisions were stowed and the essential repairs completed, it was already late afternoon. Susan stood at the chart table, pencil behind her ear and tapping a rubber eraser thoughtfully against the compass rose.

“Well, Captain,” Nancy asked, crowding the chart-house door with Peggy. “When are we getting underway?”

Susan squinted out the forward window at the level of the sun. “We might not get very far if we head out now,” she said.

“We’ll get significantly further than if we stay,” Nancy pointed out, with barely disguised impatience.

Susan hesitated, chewing on her lip. They had all been stuck ashore for far too long, and while she desperately wanted to get out on the water, she was not keen to test their night-time navigating - nor the _Ellen Carter_ ’s running lights - without a proper shakedown cruise under their belts.

“We can drop anchor before sundown and get an early start in the morning,” Nancy suggested as if reading her thoughts.

“The anchor chain is rustier than a garden gate, but solid enough,” Peggy supplied hopefully. “And the windlass is working beautifully, at least.”

Susan checked the chart again. There were plenty of sheltered bays along their route where they could find an anchorage for the night, and the thought of staying in this deary port for one more day was almost too much to bear. The fenders creaked against the stone wharf as if in agreement as they bobbed in the wake of a passing merchantman.

“Right,” Susan said, putting down her pencil and turning toward her crew. “We cast off in fifteen minutes.” 

Nancy and Peggy faces split into matching grins at Susan’s pronouncement, both nearly vibrating with the need to get on the water.

“Peggy, get the engine running,” Captain Susan ordered. “And Nancy prep the lines and fenders. I’ll settle up with the harbour master, and then we can be on our way.”

“Aye Aye, Captain!” the sisters chorused, marking matching salutes and hopping to their tasks with more enthusiasm than even the Ship’s Boy had possessed all those years ago on the _Swallow_.

With her crew hard at work, Susan lept ashore - still mindful of the loose stanchions - and headed for the harbour master’s office. Even after barely a full day aboard, the wharf was almost unnaturally still and solid under her feet.

She was in and out of the harbour master’s office in record time, politely but firmly refusing his offer of help casting off, and walked briskly back to her vessel. The _Ellen Carter_ was rough around all her edges, and the engine roared rather than purred, despite all their efforts. There was paint to apply, and curtains to sew, and various broken pieces to set to right before she would be truly livable, but with Nancy and Peggy already manning the mooring lines, and the late afternoon sun glinting off the cabin windows, she already looked like home.

Susan smiled, straightened her hat, and swung her leg over the lifeline as she clambered back aboard. 

“Alright crew,” she called, placing her hands around the spokes of the _Ellen Carter_ ’s wheel and feeling again the tug of the current against the steering gear. “Let's take her out. Are you ready to cast off?" 

"Aye Captain!" Nancy and Peggy called back cheerfully.

It was still early in the season and the _Ellen Carter_ had plenty of room on either side of her, so Susan wasn't worried about drifting down on anyone despite the current. She cast an eye into the channel, but that merchantman had marked the last of the day's rush and the few vessels still on the water were well out of their way.

"Alright. Nancy - cast off the head rope!” Susan yelled turning the wheel away from the wharf and engaging the engine.

“Head rope cast off!” Nancy called back, flicking the mooring line off the bollard with practiced ease.

“Cast off the stern line!” Susan commanded and waited for Peggy’s delighted confirmation before throttling up the engine and getting them underway at last.

The _Ellen Carter_ moved slowly at first, inching away from the wharf with reluctant grace, while Susan assessed the power of the engine. The water gurgled under the hull, and Susan gave a prolonged blast on the ship’s horn to signal that they were leaving the slip. With Nancy and Peggy already coiling the mooring lines, Susan felt an unexpected weight lift from her shoulders. She pointed the _Ellen Carter_ toward the lowering sun. Home waters were a little further than the horizon, but they were on their way again at last.

**Author's Note:**

> _All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend  
>  Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends  
> Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow  
> Or I'd never have the strength to go below_
> 
> _But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down  
>  Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around  
> Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain  
> And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again_
> 
>  _Rise again, rise again!  
>  Let her name not be lost to the knowledge of men  
> Those who loved her best and were with her 'til the end  
> Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again!_  
> \-- Stan Rogers, _Mary Ellen Carter_


End file.
